


the law of parsimony

by Reishiin



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reishiin/pseuds/Reishiin
Summary: First day of classes and Durbe's second week in Heartland City, he’s hit by an overwhelming sense of deja vu; he doesn’t know where it came from, but it feels like he just passed someone who is very important and whom he must hold on to.





	the law of parsimony

**Author's Note:**

> For [Tomoshipping Appreciation Week](http://rangerhitomi.tumblr.com/post/147618295530) day 5: AU. Based off [this](http://kroenig.tumblr.com/post/76903405160)

 

 

 

 

 

Heartland U is the flagship campus of the state system; it’s a research university located in the heart of the city, with more than 40 buildings covering 7000 acres of space, a student population breaking 10 000, and biology, psychology and business programs among the best in the nation.

Durbe doesn’t know anything about that. He’s from the other side of the country and he’d only accepted the offer to go here because it came with the best aid package. He’s seventeen, straight out of high school, and he thinks it doesn’t matter where he ends up.

It’s the first day of classes and his second week in Heartland City, and suddenly he isn’t so sure any more.

The footpath through the quad is crowded with people going places, and Durbe has his face tucked into his scarf just trying to make it to his next class without crashing into anyone, when he’s hit by an overwhelming sense of deja vu. He doesn’t know where it came from, but it feels like he just passed someone who is very important and whom he must hold on to.

Logically, he knows that there’s no reason to feel anything like that. He doesn’t know anyone at this school. But there he is—stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the footpath trying to scan the crowd for the familiar face, people jostling him as they push past grumbling at the obstruction.

Whoever it is, they’re already gone.

 

 

::

 

For as long as Durbe can remember, there are times when he wakes up in the middle of the night unable to breathe and with tears streaming down his face. There’s always an impression of a dream in which something terrible happened, but the details slip away from his mind like light through water.

Usually, when this happens, he will grab pen and paper and write down everything he can remember, and then turn his pillow over and try to go back to sleep. But it’s different now that he has to share a room with someone.

“Oh god, Durbe, are you  _crying_? Please don’t tell me you’re  _homesick_  or something like that.”

“No, I’m not. I, it’s just—” His voice isn’t completely clear, but it’s steady enough that Mizael will know he’s not going to have a breakdown.

Silence for a few moments. “Durbe, are you okay,” Mizael says, seriously this time. “Do you need anything? Should I get someone?”

“No, it’s fine,” Durbe replies. “Thanks, though. Sorry for disturbing you.”

Mizael looks at him for a moment longer and then puts one hand groggily over his eyes and grumbles at Durbe to turn out the light, so Durbe drops the notepad and pen back on his desk and tries to go back to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three weeks into the semester, Mizael’s mess has gotten everywhere. Durbe tries, he really does, to keep up the good filing habits and consistent sleep schedule he hears are ‘important to a successful college career’ and all the other advice he’s been given.

“No dice,” Mizael says, and sleeps past the 8am class Durbe knows he has.

 

 

::

 

“Rio Kamishiro, that’s K-A-M-I-”

“—got it,” Durbe says, emerging from the pile of lanyards with the right one. He’d gotten roped into working reception for an honors mixer by a fast-talking recruiter at the student union. “Here you—”

She takes the nametag with a thank you and a smile. For a moment they just look at each other, and then she blinks and steps aside for the next person in line. Belatedly, Durbe realises he’d been staring.

She’d seemed familiar somehow.

By the time he has finished helping the next guy and is looking around trying to find her again, she’s already gone.

Later, he looks her up; it’s an unusual last name, so he finds the right person easily. She was valedictorian of the local magnet high school, worked at a nonprofit over the summer, is in a relationship, has a brother named Ryoga who also attends Heartland. They have no mutual friends, and there’s nothing that indicates they’d ever crossed paths before.

There’s no connection. That’s the conclusion Durbe has to draw, based on the evidence before him. But looking at the profile picture of Rio Kamishiro in her prom dress, smiling at something just outside the picture’s edge—that sense of familiarity doesn’t go away.

Mizael turns around to toss something in the bin, and snorts when he sees what’s on Durbe’s screen. “Hah. I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing.”

“No! That’s not what—just, I—”

“Nothing to be ashamed about, she’s a pretty girl…”

There’s really no way to explain this properly, so Durbe closes out of the window and tries to forget about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Six weeks into the semester, and Durbe has a history essay due tomorrow that he hasn’t started on. He’d missed pencilling it into his schedule and forgotten all about it and now it’s too late to go to office hours or the writing center.

Mizael shrugs, unfazed. Durbe can’t tell if it’s because it’s not his deadline or because Mizael doesn’t care for deadlines in general. “Email the class list. Trust me, you won’t be the only one.”

So Durbe screws up the courage to post anonymously on the unofficial forum asking if anyone is still working on the essay, and if they want to maybe talk about it. While waiting for replies, he skims the book and dog-ears pages containing potential references and makes notes in a word document.

About three hours later, right as he is about to give up in despair and go to bed, someone finally replies.

_working on 3 too, can talk if you still want_

Durbe quickly sends back his contact information, and gets a ping from someone called 'shark’ asking if he’s the person from the history class. He answers yes.

They go over the essay prompt, and then the text. 'Shark’ points out a couple of passages Durbe hadn’t caught the first time around, and between them they manage to come up with a decent outline.

_Nasch: It looks good._  
Nasch: How are you doing on wordcount?  
shark: actually i already finished

Durbe blinks. Either this 'Shark’ is a really fast writer, or else they were already much further along on the assignment than Durbe was. He considers for a while, and then types back—

_Nasch: Gotcha. Well thanks for the help  
shark: np. good luck_

Durbe is about to hit send on 'Thanks, you too’ when the person on the other end goes offline, leaving him to stare at the essay outline and the blinking cursor.

It’s almost one in the morning and Mizael is about to go to bed. Durbe takes a deep breath, picks up his mug of tea, and heads out to the common lounge to work.

 

 

::

 

The next day in lecture Durbe idly scans the rows of students in front of him, wondering if 'Shark’ is here somewhere. It’s a big class; he’ll never find the right person. But he wonders who it might be, anyway.

 

 

::

 

Saturday night, and Durbe’s at a table next to the outlets in the library waiting for his phone to charge.

Kamishiro Rio comes by to pick up her own phone. “It’s Durbe, right?” He nods, and offers her the seat opposite while her laptop charges.

She’s a first-year too, double majoring in biology and psychology, wants to go to medical school, does intramural soccer and dueling club…

Himself, he’s really just trying to get through school without too much trouble.

“Barian?” she says, when he tells her where he’s from and where that is. No, I can’t say I’ve ever been,“ she says. "But I think I’d like to, some day…”

“ —I’m not hitting on you or anything,” Durbe says belatedly.

She laughs. “I know. That’s okay.”

It’s comfortable, like they’ve known each other for far longer than a day.

 

* * *

 

Nine weeks into the semester, Durbe misses laundry day, and Mizael smirks wide.

“I made a bet with myself on how long you’d last. I just won twenty.”

 

::

 

In that dream, there is always a girl who throws herself into the sea to save the world, and a boy who mourns her. The strangest thing is—Durbe remembers being there. He remembers fighting on one side of a war, but he can’t remember how it ends.

It’s always different. The girl always dies. The boy, only sometimes. This time Durbe takes the arrow meant for him. This time it’s Durbe’s turn to look up into someone else’s face as his vision blurs. “I’ll find you again,” the boy is saying, and there are tears running down his face. “In the next world, and the next, and the next…”

Again, Durbe opens his eyes to the dark ceiling, and again, he can’t remember anything.

 

::

 

Rio arrives carrying a bulky laptop covered in Mass Effect stickers. “It’s my brother’s,” she says. “I’m just holding on to it for a while.” Her own notebook is a slim MacBook Air.

“Gamer?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

That’s how Durbe finds out that Rio is a twin; her brother Ryoga goes here too, they’d gone to the same magnet high school before that. He’s probably a high achiever too.

 

* * *

 

Twelve weeks into the semester the physics building closes for renovations, and Durbe’s class gets moved all the way to the social science part of campus.

The first day, he underestimates the distance, and ends up having to run halfway across the grounds. He’s just dashing up the steps of the sociology building when—

—he feels it again, that sense of something familiar that makes him stop dead in his tracks. This time, Durbe immediately turns around to see who it is. This time, the other person looks back, too.

Dark hair, faded purple jacket, and the thoughtful expression of someone who’s been posed a challenging homework problem at the end of class. He’s completely ordinary and would warrant no notice at all, except for that overwhelming sense that he’s someone very important.

Durbe thinks he noticed, too, because he’s looking back.

—He has streaks of purple in his hair.

Then he’s gone, lost in the throng of people spilling into the stairwell. Durbe holds the door open and resigns himself to waiting for the crowd to clear.

About halfway through class, Alit glances at the empty document on his screen, which by this time is usually filled with notes. “Something on your mind, Durbe?”

“Not really,” he replies.

It was just coincidence that they’d met like this. Durbe doesn’t even know how he’d go about trying to find that person again.

 

::

 

“So are you finally going to man up and ask her out or—”

“ _Rio_ ,” Durbe says, “has a  _girlfriend_.”

The look on Mizael’s face makes everything worth it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fourteen weeks into the semester.

_Do you have notes from the review session? I had to leave early._

_i got there late,_  Shark replies.  _trade?_

Durbe transcribes lectures almost verbatim, then cleans his notes up later. In contrast, Shark’s notes are sparse, but they hit all the important points and everything he left out can easily be looked up.

On impulse, Durbe clicks into the metadata screen and looks for the document author field, then types in 'kryoga’ into a new e-mail and waits for the autocomplete.

Shark’s real name is Ryoga Kamishiro.

—He’s Rio’s brother, then, the one who’s double majoring in history and sociology. It makes sense that he’d be good at it, then. Strange sort of coincidence. But stranger things have happened.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Last week of fall semester, and the history final is easily the worst exam Durbe has written in his life; he stays the full three hours and still only makes it halfway through the essay portion. As he walks out of the room he’s still thinking about that one short-answer question, he’d gone over the topic twice with Shark but it just hadn’t stuck, when—

“Hey, you! Gray boots! Wait up, you dropped your—”

Durbe turns around to see someone dash out of the exam room after him, waving the scarf he’d left on the floor while getting his things. Dark hair, red jacket this time but still faded like it’s been washed too much; purple streaks in his hair. Under one arm he’s carrying a gaming laptop covered in Mass Effect stickers.

The guy skids to a halt in front of Durbe. “Hey,” that guy says, more softly, and drops the scarf into Durbe’s hands. Mizael had given that scarf to Durbe for a birthday present; it has the Big Dipper constellation stitched into both ends because that’s the sort of thing Mizael finds funny.

“Thanks.” Durbe thinks he should say more, but his mind is blank and he’s having trouble breathing.

“No problem.” The guy nods; he’s flushed, catching his breath, and his eyes are searching Durbe’s face for something. Around his neck is a shark-tooth pendant and suddenly a lot of things make sense. “Some test, huh,” he adds.

“Yeah,” Durbe replies, quietly. In the space between one heartbeat and the next he finds that there are a thousand things he wants to say but he doesn’t know any of the words. And oddly that’s fine, because Durbe thinks he’s always spoken better with silence anyway.

“So, you know, question 32b…“

 

 

 

 


End file.
